


Give

by slipshod



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipshod/pseuds/slipshod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is fun. This is what you and John do all day long?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arduinna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arduinna/gifts).



> Happy holidays to you, Arduinna!

Finch is a born outsider, awkward and too smart. He spent so many years tip toeing around the edges of society that he barely knew what to do when he found people who accepted him. It was easy to let people push him away, easy to tell himself it was for the best, so much easier than fighting for them. Once someone accused Finch of building walls around himself so that no one would ever let him down. The truth is, he's never disappointed, because he doesn't expect anything from anyone. He takes the pain that's thrown at him in all its flavors, and he buries it. 

For all that Finch has suffered, it's Reese who understands how precious life is, how fleeting. Reese knows what a rare thing it is to truly trust someone. And he will always be the brave one. 

That's why it's Reese who crawls his way into Finch's life. Unnoticed, like a spy is trained to be. He prods, insinuates himself, sneaks into the empty spaces of Finch's life until Finch wonders what was there before. 

As a general rule, Reese doesn't mention over the comms when he is injured, unless it is going to prevent him from continuing. This evening, he makes his way back to the loft in his own time following the altercation, bleeding inside his dark suit, flippant, probably just to get Finch riled up. 

"Mr. Reese, you really shouldn't be letting that stain set in the silk lining," he says as Reese removes his suit jacket and hangs it neatly on a chair back. His shirt is soaked through with blood on his right side; the stain would have soon spread too large to hide under the jacket. Finch's eyes are glued to Reese, not the suit, but he won't mention the injury until this banter has played out.

"I know you'll take care of it, Finch," he replies with a cool smile. "You've got such a way with natural fibers."

"Let me take a look at your side," Finch says. Reese sits on the table and begins unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom. After three or four buttons, he pulls the shirt up to reveal his wound. Finch gets his suture kit down from atop a filing cabinet and settles into a chair beside Reese. It won't be the first time he's stitched Reese up, although it is not Finch's favorite thing in the world. 

"It's not that bad. A butterfly bandage should do it," Reese says as Finch takes out his sterilized needles. Finch ignores him and cleans the wound. It's a knife wound, but it's a shallow slash and the edges are tidy. 

The needle is sharp, finds its way easily through the vulnerable flesh, and Finch winces, as always, at the feel of it. Reese is all steel and strength, the way he talks to people, the power of his body. He doesn't wince. But Finch has learned that in these same ways Reese is _soft_. 

"Lie down," Finch says, and pushes on his shoulder. Reese lies back against the table, smirking, allowing Finch better access to the wound. Reese's body yields to Finch's hands, his flesh to the needle. "You know," he says quietly, "this nearly caught another cut you've got here that hasn't healed. I'm starting to think you have no interest in protecting my investment in this enterprise."

"Are the suits that hard to clean up?" 

"Fine wool, Mr. Reese," Finch says, gripping the needle holder, "is very delicate. Next time I can take the knife wound and you can fix the suit." 

"No, Finch." Reese is frowning, not joking anymore when Finch looks at his face. "No."

They're quiet after that, and Reese seems to relax again under Finch's attention, in good hands as Finch sews him back together. As much as the task nauseates him, Finch's stitches are small and neat. Reese's breathing is so slow and even as Finch ties off the last suture, Finch thinks he may be asleep until he speaks. 

"Harold," Reese says, his voice as soft and hard as the rest of him. 

Every now and again, Mr. Reese will look at him with warm eyes, a promise of something more than the professional relationship they've actively cultivated, more than the friendship and trust that has grown up on its own. Finch will pose a question, or say something that prompts a response, and look up to find Reese looking at him, with a fond smile and something like fire beneath that. 

Reese is giving him that look now, must have been watching him with that look the whole time he was working, Finch realizes. But in place of his usual easy confidence, there's a question in Reese's eyes. 

Part of Finch would like to answer by leaning forward and kissing him. But that's not Finch. It might have been, once, but it isn't now, and it's certainly not _them_. Instead, he nods. "Yes, Mr. Reese," he says, not much louder than Reese's last utterance. 

Reese pushes himself up--painfully, Finch can tell--so that he's sitting upright again on the table and looking down at Finch in his chair. Reese raises one hand, slowly, and puts it against Finch's neck, his thumb brushing over his cheek. Reese frowns deeply for a moment before bending down. Finch raises his face to meet him, and Reese claims his mouth immediately, and it's right. Finch kisses him back, responsive. 

For several long minutes, it's just Reese's mouth slanting over his, Reese's strong hands holding him in place. Finch hasn't even kissed anyone since Grace, and Reese takes his time about it. 

Gradually Reese's hands start to wander, one down to Finch's shoulder, the other feeling its way down his body. He palms Finch through his suit, where Finch is already starting to get hard, just from the intensity of their kissing. Reese's head pulls back a couple inches. 

"Can--Harold, do you--" It's the first time Finch can remember hearing him struggle with words, and Finch has a hard time finding his own voice for a moment. 

"No, this isn't going to work," Finch says. Reese nods once, obviously understanding his meaning.

"The cot, in the back," he replies, and Finch, with an agility he didn't know he possessed, stands instantly to move to the small makeshift bedroom. Reese lingers behind, hovering over the open suture kit for a moment before grabbing a small bottle and following. 

They start to undress themselves quickly. Reese, who had a head start, finishes the task with the speed of a soldier and starts in on Finch's belt while Finch himself is still removing his waistcoat. Reese kisses him again, pushes his trousers down as he does so, and puts his hands on Finch's back, presses their bodies together. 

Reese is fully naked while Finch is still wearing an undershirt, with his trousers and boxers around his knees, but Reese doesn't seem to mind. He runs his hands over Finch's body almost reverently, his fingers ending up edging gently up Finch's spine. Reese's body is beautiful, Finch realizes as he makes his own exploration of arms and chest and shoulders, all hard and soft as he already knew. 

Finch has been aware of his sexual attraction to Reese for some time now, idly, the way he's aware of the seasons. Reese is a handsome man, of course--it's one of the things Finch thought would make him an effective asset on this mission--but theirs is an attraction borne of intimacy rather than physical lust. The same must be true for Mr. Reese; Finch knows that his own body would not captivate the way Reese's does, but he also knows that Reese wants him just as badly, feels it deep inside, feels it more immediately where Reese's erection is pressed against his belly. 

Reese moves them gently, strips Finch's shirt over his head, lays Finch back on the low cot, pulls his pants the rest of the way off. He hovers over Finch, breathing hard through his nose and just looking, and Finch looks back, taking his time to notice details about Reese's body he hasn't lingered on before. 

After a few long moments, Reese moves again, bending Finch's leg carefully, and then grabbing the bottle he took from the medical kit. It's been a long time since Finch has been with someone in this way, more than a decade, and his voice hitches audibly when Reese's finger breaches him. It hurts a little, at first, his body has forgotten this, but Reese is careful about stretching him. His movements are goal-oriented, efficient, but Finch enjoys it as Reese adds a second finger, then a third. 

"Are you ready?" he asks, voice strained, and Finch nods immediately, even though he's not sure that he's loose enough to minimize the ache. He's pleased when Reese moves over him and lines himself up. He wants him to push inside, to create a space for himself inside Finch like he has in every other part of Finch's life. 

It does hurt when Reese pushes in, slow, steady, but Finch breathes through it, no stranger to pain. He's sweating by the time John is all the way in, he's shaking a little, but it feels right. When he lets Reese know he's okay to proceed, his voice is clear and firm. "Very good, Mr. Reese." 

Reese smiles down at him, bracing himself with one forearm resting beside Finch's head, and starts to move. He goes slowly at first, gingerly, but seems to understand when Finch lets out a high, wanting noise. His pace changes, then, his strokes swifter, deeper, pulling out most of the way before pushing back into him. He's watching Finch with intensity, concentration, awe, and Finch feels full, complete even, blissful. Reese shifts his hips, brushes against Finch's prostate as he thrusts in, and Finch manages to get a hand onto himself between their bodies before he's coming, white noise filling his ears, body seizing with pleasure.

Reese stutters to a halt, deep inside of Finch. "Very good, Mr. Reese," Finch says again, but this time it comes out breathless, and Reese meets it with another kiss.


End file.
